Be Preparing for a Fall
by ifyoucanfindmeimhere
Summary: "She's not afraid for herself anymore, not since that moment on the shore, and after talking to Lee today, much of her worry for the fleet itself has been assuaged, but she is afraid for something."


At some point, hours into the conversation, Laura realizes that she's forgotten that this is Lee who betrayed her trust, Lee who forced her confession at the trial, Lee who has been second-guessing decisions and movements for months. He's just Lee, an honorable man, a good son, and someone she is confident will be able to lead their people when she's gone.

She smiles as he talks about how he sees the restructuring of the government going, considers the best way for representatives of each ship to become the ones who now make the decisions for their constituents. When he mentions that they'll have to find a bigger place to meet, perhaps Galactica's ward room, neither one of them speaks of the relief they have that Colonial One is too small to handle those future meetings, that they won't have to go through trying to pretend that the Quorum wasn't slaughtered in the room as they make tentative steps towards something fresh, something different.

"A new start," Lee says, and she nods because that's what she's been doing for most of this meeting, nodding, and contributing a few words here and there, a thought, a suggestion of who might be best to work with, but mostly, nodding as Lee and his ideas and enthusiasm run rampant. It's why he sought her out a few hours ago here, in Bill's quarters; why despite a pounding headache and a tightness in her chest, that she insisted he stay and tell her what he was planning, even though finding her in such a state almost made him flee as quickly as arrived.

"Please, stay." She had told him, when he peered around the corner and found her laying atop Bill's rack, a cold washcloth on her forehead to try and sooth an ache that could not be soothed. It took a few more encouraging words to get him to sit, albeit stiffly in the chair by the bed and start talking, failing to make eye contact as he stumbled over his notes.

Now, it's later, and from her vantage point on the rack, she can tell he's relaxed. With his coat off and the top of his dress shirt unbuttoned, sprawling lazily in the chair, he looks vaguely like a little boy playing dress up in his father's clothes, even though she's never seen Bill in clothes like this, not even in pictures. She's feeling better because distraction is more powerful than anything Cottle has in his arsenal these days, though by the faint twinge that is building in her side she knows it's been about four hours since the last time she took a pain pill, which means Bill will be back soon to check on her and gently insist she take another.

She turns towards Lee, reaches out her hand. He stops talking instantly, and after only a slight hesitation, puts his hand around hers.

"Lee," she starts, and then stops because he's looking at her with such openness, such hope. She doesn't want to break this spell, temper his enthusiasm, but this needs to be said and she's terrified of waiting too long, of it being the last chance she has. "I want to talk to you about… after." His eyes change, his face darkens as he instantly knows what she's referring to. Though she has been through this twice now, it doesn't make it any easier. She's not afraid for herself anymore, not since that moment on the shore, and after talking to Lee today, much of her worry for the fleet itself has been assuaged, but she is afraid for something.

She opens her mouth to try again, then hesitates once more, because she hates adding this burden to his already heavy load, but she knows he's the only one. She hakes her head then forges ahead, forcing steadiness to her voice she doesn't feel. "I want you to have a plan in place. This transition, it has been slow and smooth, and I don't want that to change. But when the time comes- I don't want a big ceremony, no big show. I've told your father what I want, but when it happens, he won't remember. You know how he likes his gestures." She smiles at him to lighten the mood, and it works because he smiles back.

"He is fond of ceremony." She nods in agreement, and he gives her a grin. "And Kara would probably talk him into a viper squadron salute."

She can't help the giggle that escapes at the absurdity of the thought. "And a full orchestra playing accompaniment. " He starts laughing, and for a moment there is just them, thinking about the most ridiculous, over the top state funeral that could possibly be conceived. The lightness of the moment is broken as a cough slices through her body, and Instantly Lee is at her side supporting her till it passes, then helping her take a sip of water before she collapses back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted.

She catches her breath and when she looks up, the familiarity of another moment so similar yet different doesn't go unnoticed to her. Lee is looking down on her, his too-blue eyes full of concern. His hand is still around hers, and she squeezes his fingers to reassure him that she's alright. "I'll take care of it, Madame President," he says finally, and she nods because she knows he will.

"Thank you, Lee." She releases his hand, and he smiles sadly before turning to leave. She closes her eyes to try and control the pain the coughing fit has awoken in her chest, and hears Lee in the living room exchanging soft words with his father before leaving the quarters; a moment later, she hears the shuffling of Bill approaching the bed and settling into the chair his son just vacated.

"How long were you standing there?" She asks finally. He doesn't answer right away, but when she opens her eyes and sees the anguished look on his face as he studies her, she knows it was long enough.

"Bill." She reaches out towards him, and again it is her doing the soothing as he places his warm, weathered hand around hers.

"Laura, I can't…" He can't finish the sentence, can't talk about the thing he refuses to talk about, to even consider. She knows she should push, try once more to make him acknowledge what is coming so quickly now, but she doesn't have it in her at the moment. "I know," she says simply, because she does. "That's why you don't have to."

It's not acquiescence, but it's also not insistence, and for Bill, that's enough. He squeezes her hand. "Can I get you anything?"

For the second time, she's taken back to that other time, and briefly considers recapturing the moment, saying the line that will bring a smile to his face. But that other time carries with it a false promise in its memory, a different outcome, and there can be no more of that now.

Instead she nods towards his side of the rack, and he wastes no time shucking his boots and uniform top before carefully climbing into the empty space beside her and pulling her to him gently. The warmth of him soothes the worst of the aches in her body, and she allows herself to drift towards sleep, confident that the fleet will be fine without her, and for the first time, she allows the tiniest bit of hope that perhaps Bill will be as well.


End file.
